


Mourning with the Old Cell Phone

by blacklister



Category: The Blacklist
Genre: Death, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6721951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacklister/pseuds/blacklister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ressler and Reddington mourn over Lizzy's death in their own ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mourning with the Old Cell Phone

**Author's Note:**

> So I was just looking through old screencaps of The Blacklist and found the picture of Lizzy finding Red's phone in The Kings of the Highway episode. The phone has a bunch of text messages of worried Lizzy (that I include in this story and here on my tumblr post: http://not-elizabeth-keen.tumblr.com/tagged/tblcellphonefic )

Ressler found the phone in Lizzy’s pocket the day he captured her. He confiscated it from her, while she watched him helplessly, basically pleading for him to let her go.  
He’d looked over the texts later in his office, and he’d almost felt guilty. Not just because he might be endangering his “friends” life further, but also because he’d separated these two people. How could he pull these two apart even further after these so called highwaymen had already done so?  
But he’d forgotten the whole thing later, thinking, again, he was doing his job.  
But today, oh boy, Lizzy is gone. Dead. And the guilt he felt before increased. The regret of it all. It pained the agent.  
He yelled at some poor folks who were just doing their job to scram, and get away from Elizabeth Keen’s belongings. Why did he do that? Thankfully Cooper stopped him from making more decisions he’d regret.  
And looking at her belongings now, he knew the story of Elizabeth Keen was a messy one. Filled with unnecessary pain. She didn’t deserve to be chased down by the Cabal, and then be chased by him, and then chased by Solomon. It wasn’t fair.  
His thoughts soon traveled to Raymond Reddington.  
“It’s his fault.” Ressler muttered to himself in Elizabeth Keen’s old desk chair, holding the cell phone tightly, wanting to break it. How could she want him to know she’s “worried”. He should have been the one to be told when she’s worried. He should’ve been there for her.  
“But I wasn’t,” he whispered to himself.  
It hurt drastically, this confession to himself. Liz had of course forgiven him before she’d passed, but had he forgiven himself?  
It was something to dwell on while mourning the beautiful Keen.  
But now, he knew what he had to do. He had to stop blaming The Concierge of Crime. It’s hard to ignore the fact that Raymond loved her most. It’s so obvious it hurts.  
He put the cell phone in a small box where Liz had kept paper clips and staples. He shut the box and with a pen wrote in print “Reddington.”  
This simple cell phone is nothing but a reminder of pain. And it’s to go to Reddington. After all, it is his.  
Ressler tried to ignore the next thoughts that went through his mind, like: what would he think when I give him this?  
He just got in his car after a quick call to Dembe and drove to Reddington.

 

“Raymond, Ressler came.”  
Raymond Reddington stayed seated as Dembe brought him a small box. Once Dembe left the room he opened it.  
_Whose phone is this?_  
It’s not surprising, but he’s gotten many phones from many people over the years. Sometimes people forget how cheap these things are for The Concierge of Crime, so they send him one anyone to make sure their calls our private.  
But this was Ressler who gave him the phone, not any associate or criminal of his.  
He turned on the cell and it was fully charged for some odd reason. Ressler must have charged it.  
Soon, after a quick check through the contacts he knew that this was one of his many useless phones.  
_Why would Ressler want to give me back one of my old phones?_  
To find out more he checked the messages. The latest, months ago, being from Lizzy.  
Red took a deep breath and looked through the messages, soon realizing these messages where from the day he was kidnapped by The Kings of the Highway and Lizzy was taken into police custody by Ressler.  
He couldn’t help it. His eyes started to hurt as tears slowly came. He read through the messages, having to wipe his eyes every few seconds to be able to see.  
“Where’d you go?”  
“I’m worried. Call me.”  
“where are you?”  
“Call me”  
“CALL ME”  
He didn’t think twice before calling her.  
Clearly it was a silly, hopeless act. But in the wet eyes of Reddington, it needed to be done. If he hadn’t called her all those months ago when she desperately needed him, he’d call her today.  
Of course, he was soon told, after one ring, by a female voice the phone had been disconnected.  
_Disconnected._  
Such a word pained him.  
Lizzy on a little bed being connected to many tubes trying to support her. Lizzy, under the earth, being connected to nothing.  
_Stop thinking about that, Raymond._  
But he couldn’t stop.  
It was his fault, he thought. He should’ve been more careful. If he’d stayed with her and was less kidnap-able maybe their whole future would’ve been different. Then she wouldn’t have been frightened and texted him these things. Maybe he could’ve gotten back on the cargo ship and gone to Spain, Australia, or anywhere. One event being changed in the past could help. Maybe then she wouldn’t have died. He should’ve done it all differently. Never let her be close to Tom and consider marrying him. Never be chased by Solomon. Gotten a different doctor other than Nik.  
“I’m worried,” she’d texted, months ago.  
“I’m sorry, Lizzy,” he texted back today.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading


End file.
